She forced a smile and made a circular motion with her hand. Live Smith adjusted her jacket, tucked her hair behind her ears and sounded offended when she spoke.
‘You were the one who wanted me to start from the beginning.’
‘Sorry. Could you possibly-?’
‘OK. The short version is that when I came in last Friday to get things ready for the new term, I had the feeling that someone had been here.’
Her hand swept around the room. It was a spacious office with filing cabinets along one wall and a door leading into a smaller room. The other walls were covered in children’s drawings in IKEA frames. The curtains were bright red with yellow spots and fluttered gently in the warm air from the radiator under the window.
‘I just had a funny feeling. There was a different… smell in here, perhaps. No, that’s wrong. It was more like a different atmosphere, somehow.’
She seemed embarrassed, and smiled before quickly adding: ‘You know.’
Johanne knew.
‘Not that I believe in the supernatural,’ said Live Smith with a disarming smile. ‘But I’m sure you recognize the feeling that-’
‘There’s nothing supernatural about it,’ Johanne broke in. ‘On the contrary, it’s one of our most finely tuned capabilities. The subconscious notices things that we can’t quite manage to bring to the surface. Something might have been moved. As you say, an almost imperceptible smell might linger. The more we have lived, the more capable our accumulated experience is of telling us more than we are able to define on a first impression. Some people are better than others at understanding what they feel.’
She finally managed to get some water down.
‘Sometimes they refer to themselves as clairvoyant,’ she added.
The sarcasm made her pulse slow down.
‘And then there was the file,’ said Live Smith.
Once again that smile behind every sentence, as if she were trying to make herself insignificant. Not really worth bothering about. Not to be taken all that seriously. Under normal circumstances, Johanne would have found this feminine display unbelievably irritating, but right now it took all of her strength to keep her voice steady.
‘Kristiane’s file,’ she nodded.
‘Yes, it’s…’
Live Smith stopped herself in the middle of a breath as if she were searching for the least dangerous word. Disappeared? Lost? Stolen?
‘Perhaps it’s just been mislaid,’ she said eventually.
Her expression said something completely different.
‘How did you find out it was missing?’
‘I wanted another file from the same drawer, and I discovered it wasn’t locked. The drawer, I mean. It hadn’t been broken open or anything like that. It just wasn’t locked. I was annoyed with myself, because as far as I can remember I was the last one to lock up before Christmas. We have very strict rules when it comes to storing information about our pupils. Partly because the files contain sensitive medical information, and I…’
This time the smile was followed by a slight shrug.
Johanne said nothing.
‘Since there was no sign of a break-in on the door or the cupboards and drawers, I assumed it was down to my own carelessness. But just to be on the safe side I checked that everything was where it should be. And it was. Apart from…’
‘Apart from Kristiane’s file.’
Exactly.
Johanne felt an almost irresistible urge to wipe that smile off her face.
‘Why don’t you want to report it to the police?’
‘The Head doesn’t think it can have been a break-in. Nothing has been damaged. There are no marks on the doors, at least not that we can see. Nothing has been stolen. Not that there’s much of value in this room, apart from the computer perhaps.’
She laughed this time, a high, strained little laugh.
And what about my child? thought Johanne. Kristiane’s life, all the investigations, diagnoses and non-diagnoses, the medication and the mistakes, her progress and her setbacks, the whole of Kristiane’s existence lay documented in a file that had been gathered together over years of trust, and now it was gone.
‘I would say the children’s files are worth a little bit more than your computer,’ said Johanne.
At last the smile took a break.
‘Of course,’ said Live Smith. ‘And that’s why I thought I ought to speak to you. But perhaps the Head is right. This was an error on my part. I’m sure the file will turn up later today. I just thought that since I had that feeling, and since you actually work for the police-’
‘I don’t work for the police. I’m employed by the university.’
‘Oh yes. It’s your husband who’s in the police, isn’t it? Kristiane’s father.’
Johanne didn’t have the strength to correct her again. Instead she got to her feet. Glanced at the archive room in the back.
‘You were quite right to let me know,’ she said. ‘Could I have a look at the cupboard?’
‘The cabinet?’
‘Yes, if that’s what you call it.’
‘It’s really only the Head and I who… As I said, we have very strict rules about-’
‘I only want to look. I won’t touch a single file!’
The Director of Studies got up. Without a word she went over to the door, picked out the right key from a huge bunch, and unlocked it. Her hand fumbled around to the left of the door frame. A bright fluorescent strip light crackled and flashed before eventually settling down to an even, high-frequency hum.
‘It’s that one,’ she said, pointing.
Cabinets lined two of the walls from floor to ceiling. Grey, enamelled metal cabinets with doors. Johanne looked at the one Live Smith had pointed out. The lock appeared to be intact. She leaned closer, peering over the top of her glasses.
‘There’s a little scratch here,’ she said after a few seconds. ‘Is that new?’
‘A scratch? Let me see.’
Together they studied the lock.
‘I can’t see anything,’ said Live Smith.
‘Here,’ said Johanne, pointing with a pen. ‘At a slight angle just here. Can you see it?’
Live Smith leaned forward. As she peered at the lock her top lip was drawn up, making her look like an eager mouse.
‘No…’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I can’t see anything.’
Johanne sighed and straightened up.
‘Could you open it, please?’
This time Live Smith obliged without further discussion. The big bunch of keys rattled once more, and after a few seconds she had the door open. Inside the cabinet was divided into six drawers, each with their own lock and key.
‘Kristiane’s file was in this one,’ she said, pointing at the top drawer.
With the best will in the world, Johanne couldn’t spot any signs of a break-in. She examined the little keyhole from every possible angle. The cabinet was certainly old, with a number of scratches on the metal surface. But the lock appeared to be untouched.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
Live Smith closed the cabinet and locked up after them.
‘There,’ she said with relief when everything was secure. ‘I really do apologize for raising the alarm with no reason.’
‘Not at all,’ said Johanne, forcing a smile in response. ‘As you said, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Thank you.’
She was already over by the door. Only now did it occur to her that she was still wearing her outdoor clothes. She was hot, almost sweating.
‘Ring me if it turns up,’ she said.
‘When it turns up,’ said the Director of Studies. ‘Of course I will. I’d also like to say what a pleasure it is to see the progress Kristiane is making.’
It was as if the middle-aged woman underwent a complete personality change. Gone were the artificial smiles. Her hands, which had been constantly fiddling with her hair and nervously pushing it behind her ears, lay motionless on her knee when she sat down. Johanne remained standing.